Justice For Abby (32 page)

“Wait for me, Quinn, and we’ll get her.”

He wanted to storm into the dingy space now and take Abby away, but he had no idea how many men stood guard or if she was in fact there herself. She had to be. “Hurry.” He hung up as a car pulled around the building. He rushed back among the ancient litter, crouching as the man who’d hit him with the metal pipe opened a massive, garage-sized door. The Lincoln pulled in and the door closed behind them.

Jerrod made his way back to the window, watching as Victor Bobco stepped from the back seat of the vehicle, then Dimitri Dubov, both of the men smiling. “Son of a bitch,” he muttered as his stomach clenched with dread. Abby was definitely here, and she was running out of time.

~~~~

Abby shoved up her sleeves, took another deep breath, and pushed at the filthy oil barrel, grunting with her effort. She’d been trying to move the thing for more minutes than she wanted to count, but it wouldn’t budge. The drum was half full with ash, more than likely from the homeless trying to stay warm, but starting a fire wasn’t on her agenda. Her focus was on escape. If she could just knock the barrel to its side and roll it to the windows, she had a real chance. There had to be a bar or two loose in the decrepit frames, but she couldn’t find out if she couldn’t reach them.

Backing up several feet, she ran forward, pushing at the stubborn metal with no effect. “Damn it.” Her meager height and weight weren’t helping a mostly hopeless situation. She looked at her watch and the frozen hands stuck at nine forty-five, closing her eyes. She’d been here long enough to understand that her transmitting signal was damaged, along with the rest of the jewelry on her wrist. Jerrod wasn’t coming to save her—he would have no idea where to look. She would either find a way out of this situation on her own or die.

She cast an uneasy glance toward the huge rusted door. It was only a matter of time before Dimitri came for her. Shuddering, she turned back and shook her head. Escape—that’s what she needed to focus on. Licking her lips, she got back to it, pushing and shoving until sweat dampened her skin despite the deep chill. “Come on. Come
on
,” she whispered as she gave the barrel a frustrated kick.

She ran a hand through her hair, trying her best to keep her lips from quivering.
Don’t give up on me.
Jerrod’s words echoed through her mind as they had each time she’d been ready to sit down and accept her fate, but his steady blue eyes and her desperate desire to see him again gave her the strength to keep trying despite the odds.

“Okay.” She gave her shoulders a shake to loosen them up. “Okay,” she said again, backing up, running forward as she’d tried before, but this time she rammed the metal with the right side of her body, losing her balance as the heavy barrel fell forward with a huge crash. She coughed as ash spewed about the space, covering her clothing in soot. “
Yes
.” She rushed to her feet, brushing herself off with a renewed sense of hope, and began rolling the huge can toward the wall, stopping to push chunks of concrete and bricks out of her way.

Winded, she swiped her arm over her forehead, continuing on with her mission, smiling as she reached the wall. She grabbed the edge of the metal and pushed up in her attempt to right the barrel she’d fought so hard to topple, her arms trembling with the effort. Finally it moved and she gained leverage, righting the heavy drum, bottom end up. “Ha!”

The door opened behind her, and she whirled.

Luka stepped in. “What are you doing?”

She looked from him to the drum and back. “Uh, I want to start a fire. It’s cold in here.”

“You don’t need a fire.” He smiled, opening the door wider.

Dimitri walked in wearing black slacks and a gray long-sleeve shirt that accentuated his muscular frame.

She clutched the edge of the barrel as her legs turned to water, and her heart stuttered with the rush of outright terror.

“Little Bitch,” he clasped his hands together, smiling, the cruel, hateful gleam in his eyes burning bright. “You’re back.” His gaze traveled down her body. “And filthy. But soon you will be dead, so this doesn’t matter.”

Victor and Aleksey walked in, flanking Dimitri’s side.

She swallowed, glancing around at the heavy pieces of concrete, searching for a weapon as her breathing turned ragged. She could throw all the bricks and stone she wanted, but there were five men to stop her. There was no way out.

“Come to me.” Dimitri pointed to the floor in front of his feet.

She stayed where she was, still gripping the barrel, too terrified to move.

“I said come. Now!”

“No,” she shuddered out, still trying to think of a way to save herself.

“She has forgotten how to obey.” He crossed his arms, shaking his head with a mocking
tsk
. “Victor, bring her to me.”

“Don’t!” Abby bent down, picking up concrete chunks, chucking them and backing up as Victor advanced. “Stay away!” A piece the size of her fist connected with his temple.

“You
bitch
!” He froze, turning away as blood gushed from his wound.

“Aleksey, grab her,” Dimitri demanded.

Aleksey rushed forward, dodging pieces, grabbing hold of her arm.

“No!” She fought a useless battle, kicking about, twisting desperately as Aleksey carried her to his boss. “No!”

Aleksey kicked the back of her knees, sending her to the floor at Dimitri’s feet.

Dimtri bent down, slapping her across the face. “You will
listen
!”

Gasping, she fell back from the force and stinging pain, pressing her palm to her throbbing cheek.

“You don’t remember how to behave, so I will help you.” He slapped her again, and she cringed, bracing for the next blow as he raised his hand for the third time. “Next I will use my fist—the way I did with the little mouse.”

Her eyes widened, staring into his as she recognized his nickname for Margret. “You bastard!” She rushed to her feet, shoving him back a step with the strength of her heartbreak and anger.

His fist flew forward, connecting with her already sore jaw, knocking her to the floor with a thud. “Who do you think you are?” He crouched down, grabbing a handful of her hair, and jerked her face to his. “I should kill you right now the way I did her. She cried and begged as I punched her again and again. She bled well.” He smiled. “No matter how many times I told her to tell me where you were she wouldn’t.”

She blinked in horror, realizing Margret died trying to protect her. They’d shared their hopes and dreams more than once while they hid themselves away in her tiny bedroom. Margret had known she would go to Los Angeles and work for Lily Brand. From the beginning Abby had tried to save her young friend, and Margret lost her life trying to do the same for her. Bursting into tears, Abby covered her tender face with her hands, her depths of sorrow more than she could bear.

“Aw, she cries for the Little Mouse.” He gave her a shove. “So touching.”

Someday I’m going to look him in the eye and spit in his face, Abby. I swear I’m going to do it.
Margret’s bruised and battered face and fierce whisper raced through her mind. Abby looked up as Dimitri’s loomed close, and she let a wad of saliva fly.

He grabbed her by the neck, squeezing as the amusement left his eyes, turning deadly as he wiped at his cheekbone. “You will die,” he said through clenched teeth, gripping her harder.

She gasped, grabbing at his wrist, fighting for air.

“I should break your neck.” He increased the pressure of his cruel grip.

She closed her eyes, clawing, accepting that she would die.

“But you will wait.” He let her go. “I will give you more time to think of your last breath.” He stood, glaring. “Bitch.” He wiped at his face for the second time.

She sucked in deep breaths as the room spun from her lack of oxygen. Trembling, she listened as Dimitri shouted in Russian.

Luka and the stranger who’d nearly killed her in the van hurried through the open doorway. Tension hung thick in the silence, and Abby scooted back, bracing herself, waiting for Dimitri to order her beaten or raped for his enjoyment.

“Borris, Luka, I want to thank you for your part in bringing Little Bitch to me.”

Luka and the stranger—Borris—nodded, their smiles disappearing when Dimtri pulled a gun from his pants. Two loud pops echoed through the room, and both men lost most of their faces.

Abby screamed as she got to her feet and ran across the room in an attempt to escape the horror.

Dimitri laughed, walking to the dead men. “Unfortunately your services are no longer needed.” He kicked them, turned, laughing harder as he looked at Abby. “Aleksey, bring her to me. It’s time for Little Bitch to die.”

She backed into the corner as Aleksey walked toward her, realizing that this was it. He grabbed her, taking her back to the man who would end her. She stared into Dimitri’s evil brown eyes, understanding that he and The Mid-Atlantic Sex Ring had won. The prosecution’s lead witness would die, and Lorenzo Cruz would more than likely go free. She would never meet her nephew or say goodbye to Alexa. She and Jerrod wouldn’t get their chance to have everything they’d wanted with each other.

Dimitri gripped her chin, holding the gun to her temple. “You will die with pain.”

She closed her eyes and tears poured down her cheeks. She thought of Jerrod, shaking uncontrollably, waiting. Seconds passed, and she opened them.

“A bullet is too quick. Your agony will be much worse, but not here.” Smiling, he cracked the pistol along the side of her face.

The pain of the sharp blow barely registered as the black hole of unconsciousness reached up and swallowed her whole.

~~~~

Jerrod moved back to the window, his gaze passing over the bastard who’d hit him across the temple while the ass leaned against the Lincoln, reading a newspaper. Clenching his jaw, Jerrod crept closer to the jagged shards of broken glass, looking in from a different angle, trying to see down the long hall which Dimitri and Victor, along with two other men, had disappeared. In the twenty minutes he, Stone, and Shane had been here, he’d counted five men altogether.

He stepped back, crouching in his hiding spot, glancing at his watch, growing impatient as he waited for Shane and Stone to work their way back from their quick survey of the rest of the four-story building. They’d been gone mere minutes, but every second ticking by passed in what felt like centuries. Reconnaissance was a vital part of the extraction process, but this wasn’t happening fast enough.

He rubbed at the back of his neck, huffing in utter frustration, trying to ignore the sick ache in his heart, understanding that the frantic desire to rush did no one any good. Every time he thought of the way Abby had screamed for him or the way her eyes had pleaded with his as they closed her into the van, he fought to turn it off. He needed to concentrate on the team’s goal: bringing Abby out safely and taking her home.

He glanced toward the window again, knowing she waited somewhere among the dingy maze of rooms. But what shape was she in? What had they done to her, or what were they doing while he waited here helplessly, doing nothing?

Rocks crunched against the cement behind him, and he whirled, gun pointed.

“Easy, Quinn.” Stone stopped short, bringing his hands up to his chest.

Jerrod dropped his weapon, catching sight of Shane hustling back from the opposite corner of the building. “What did you see?”

“There are several points of possible exit along the east side of the building,” Shane said, still slightly breathless from his jog back. “Most windows are second story and up, so we don’t have to worry about that as an escape route, but the doors are an obvious problem.”

“I didn’t notice any vehicles hanging around the area,” Stone added with his arms crossed at his chest. “I don’t think anyone else was invited to the party.”

“If Dubov and Bobco are inside, we’ve got the last of the ring right here,” Shane added.

“It’s them. I’m positive.” Jerrod had memorized Dimitri and Victor’s faces months ago, when Ethan handed him Abby’s case file and told him to board a plane to Maryland.

“Then it looks like it’s time to finish this. We’ll be bringing them out in cuffs or body bags.” Stone shrugged. “Either way works for me.”

Jerrod nodded, staring into Stone’s unwavering brown eyes. Those options worked for him as well. “Let’s do this.”

“I’m ready,” Shane said.

“Okay.” Jerrod nodded again, ready to end Abby’s nightmare. “We’ve got one man directly inside—armed. That leaves us with four more from what I’ve seen—whereabouts unknown. Our entry point,” he gestured to the door thirty yards away, “is locked. I think this will handle whatever they’re using to secure it.” He pointed to the rusty remains of a beam among the debris. “Stone, I’ll have you cover me and Shane. Shane, we’ll do this up the way we used to.” He and Shane had knocked down more than one door together in their years on Fugitive Task Force.

Shane nodded.

“We get in,” Jerrod continued, “then take down whoever this asshole is.” He glanced back in the window, catching sight of the man moving in the direction Dimitri and the others had gone. “Wait. He just left.” He focused on his team again. “At some point we’ll have to contend with him, maybe at the door when all is said and done but—”

Two loud pops cut him off, and his gaze flew to the door, his heart stopping as he recognized the sound of gunfire. “Abigail,” he whispered, his voice thick with agony.

“Let’s go,” Stone said with a jarring pound of his fist to Jerrod’s shoulder. “Let’s go now.”

The jolting punch was just what he needed. “Come on.” He picked up the heavy beam with Shane, refusing to believe that the gunshots had been Abby’s end. They moved quickly, struggling with the weight of their makeshift door rammer as Stone followed, pointing his weapon toward the warehouse, ready to fire on anyone who spotted them.

“Now!” Jerrod shouted, using his anger and fear to slam the heavy piece against the thick metal, denting it with their first effort, busting it open with the second. Dropping the beam, he and Shane drew their weapons, entering the eerily quiet building, covering each other, moving in the formation they all knew well—Shane first, gun pointing forward, Jerrod watching left and right, Stone heading up the back, waiting for their man to reappear.